Mystery's Of The Heart
by Halo4Eva
Summary: M to be safe, but probably won't be that bad. Altaïr/OC. Hate summary's... When you live like I do you take every chance you get…
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Chapters will be fairly short and will probably update slowly. Criticism is welcome. I know I'm crap, so if you could help me improve that would be great. :)

* * *

Altaïr didn't know what he was doing, this girl, this woman, was a Templar. But he _wanted_ her, and he always got what he wanted…

* * *

His target was way in front of him running up buildings and across roofs like they'd been doing it all their life.

He growled, frustrated. This was becoming a real problem, his kill always seemed one step ahead of him, and they definitely knew he was after them. He was following a Templar but other than that little piece of information he knew nothing else about this bright gold spark in his Eagle Vision.

The target, still ahead of him, was now climbing the bell tower. Altaïr sighed and followed, trying to find a faster path. He reached the top in time to see the Templar edging out onto the perch, he caught a glimpse of bright green eyes as his kill turned to smile a him before they dived off the tower in a backwards Leap of Faith.

He ran across the roof after his emerald-eyed quarry, jumping off the perch without missing a beat. He landed in the straw and rolled out, glancing quickly around for the Templar and running after them again.

* * *

This is it, Altaïr thought; I've got them now. His target had finally made the fatal mistake he'd been waiting for. They'd led him into a courtyard and were now climbing through one of the open windows. He followed, smiling.

Clambering up into the room, Altaïr was immediately struck by the bed that dominated the space.

Had his kill really led him to their bedchamber?

The cloaked form he'd been chasing stood with their back to him near the only exit from the room; it would be so easy for him to kill them now.

Then the figure turned to him and, with green eyes flashing in the moonlight from the window behind him, they pushed back their hood.


	2. Chapter 2

Dark hair spilled out around the woman's face. He moved closer to see her better and there was no mistaking the femininity of the beautiful features.

She smiled tentatively, "You are Altaïr?" Her voice was as hauntingly beautiful as her face.

"Yes." Altaïr whispered, "And you are a Templar. I presume you know of my purpose here?"

She pulled the cloak off before replying, "I believe I know your purpose here better than you yourself do." Her smile was secretive with a little seductive edge.

His eyes unwillingly traced her body, she was amazing, amazing and dangerous; he couldn't forget that, if he did he could kiss life goodbye.

* * *

An unfamiliar sensation shot through his body as he looked at her, his target.

But how could he kill her? How could he destroy such beauty, such perfection?

Her head tilted to one side as she appraised his indecision. Then she smiled and came towards him, no fear in her eyes, no hesitation in her step. She pushed his hood back and she followed the rim of it down to his chest guard. Her fingers were quick and steady as she removed his armour and the white robe.

He didn't understand what she was doing, he was here to kill her, and she had run and led him to this place, to her room.

Why? What for? She'd said she knew why he was here. So shouldn't she be afraid? Shouldn't she have kept on running?

His body's reaction to her touch shocked him; this was uncharted water but he somehow knew what to do next.


	3. Chapter 3

She moved back to her bed, daring him with her eyes to follow.

His feet moved automatically, like his body couldn't bear to be apart from hers.

She slid onto the sheets, lying back onto her pillows, inviting him to join her.

He stalked up, crawling above her, supporting his weight, and keeping it off her. He was prepared to kill her; right up until the moment he met her gaze, the moment he stared into her eyes of perfect emerald, because that was the moment he became trapped.

He wanted her; he wanted to know the true gratification of a woman's body like he'd never known it before.

She removed his shirt and leaned up to touch her mouth to his, and somehow he knew what to do, how to move his lips, how to take her in that little way, despite never doing it before.

* * *

He ripped open her shirt, while her hands ran down his bare chest, and as he stared, he paused, shocked. Because there, in bloody red, branded into the flesh of her shoulder was the Mark of the Creed. She was an Assassin.

His eyes flew wide, "What is the meaning of this?" He yelled.

She sighed, "I'm not a Templar…"

"I gathered that! This is the Mark of the Creed!" He was panicking, his information had been wrong.

"Exactly." She said tiredly, "I'm an Assassin, and I like to think I'm pretty good, I mean I out ran the great Altaïr!" Her laugh was amazing, and he felt like drowning in it.


End file.
